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Best Poems Written by Sheila Henry

Below are the all-time best Sheila Henry poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

My Father's Eyes

Limpid pools of amber lights
they glistened like precious gems
in their sockets.
I remember them well
those sparkling eyes
nesting gracefully
in my dad’s aged face.

Those eyes witnessed many moons
now reflecting gifted wisdom shown
on an old man’s face
forever smiling lips in old man’s head
when he shared the beauty his eyes beheld.
Once the eyes of a warrior
a hunter of prey
stalking wild life and myths
in the darkness of night
his headlamp lighting the way
visions he shared
in his stories to us kids
with a hunter’s pride and a
stutter in his voice.

The last time I adored them
it was at Easter
he gazed down from the stair where he sat
his eyes shone bright with
admiration while
looking at the first and
second generations of his seed
adoring his fold
a vision of pride he would
forever hold
to accompany
him on his journey
home.

And when next I saw
him
he had been given his last rights
his body posed in rested pause
while his spirit soared on
Its final hunt
journeying home.
The amber eyes I knew and loved
the windows to his soul
now shut closed for good.
The memory of them
I’ll always keep
cause they once
regarded me
with love and awe.
My father’s amber eyes.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Creative Madness

We marvel 
At the genius of madness 
Gush over its select few 
Brilliant stars that shine a bit brighter 
Through eyes that see the unseen.  

Their talent unbridled and raw 
Craftsman of unparalleled weaving 
They fill our minds and hearts 
With laughter, wonder and awe.  

We applaud them—we adore them 
Their gifts set our souls afire. 
They, our privileged artisans 
Their serenity often ruffled, and disturbed.  

We witness their surging creativity 
But is there a cost to shine so bright? 
Is there a debt bought for such privilege? 
Or is madness the price we assert.  

To us it seems the noise grows louder and louder 
Until their peace is drowned out. 
Perhaps the work of “tortured geniuses” 
Awakens spurts of madness that create a space to be filled.  

Are they attempting to tame their ferocious mind  

By falling into an addict’s bubble? 
Committing destruction against their souls 
Loneliness is their constant companion.  

Helpless, we watch them, predicting their demise 
Watch them spiral into decline 
Spinning through addiction and struggle 
Until they succumb to a grave end.  

Too soon, 
we say, 
They’ve gone much too soon 
Our mantra for these lost souls.  

Inspiration sighs 
For yet another white dwarf star 
Still we honor their creativity, their work 
Long after they have gone.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

On Migrating To America

Migrating to America 
In the age of Aquarius
Envisioning the best from the
Land of opportunity where it’s been said
Streets are paved in gold
Everyone has a white picket fence and
A Chevrolet too

The corner hop served burgers and fries
Soda fountains and milkshakes at the Five and Dime
Teens danced the twist and the mash potato
On American Bandstand
And kids played under open fire hydrants in the city

Black is beautiful…
Short afros large afros and James Brown
Tell the people “Say it loud, I’m black
And I’m proud” Bill Withers on the radio
Singing ‘Lean on Me’ and
Shaft is a ‘Bad mo fo… watch your mouth’

Watts turned into ash driven by black rage combustion
Fed up with police brutality still fresh on everyone’s minds
Jesus Christ is a superstar on Broadway
Harry Krishna and the Moonies in orange
Garbs and shaven heads trying to transcend souls 
With their tambourines
Flower children preaching peace and love
Pot is something you smoke
Hot pants are short shorts
Worn with boots made for walking

And Uncle Sam wants you
He’s giving a free round trip ticket to Vietnam
While young men dodge the draft 

Welcome to a new dawning in the age of Aquarius
Migrating settling in a new land
Leaving behind adolescence and easy island living
For a future to fulfill dreams in a concrete jungle
On migrating to America.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Bad Ass Rooster

I cheer on your strength
yours is more than an ox
stronger than any
builder’s pillar ~ is your grit
but not beyond support.

You may not be covered by a roof
but your mind is enriched
with golden matter generating
words that flow smoothly through to
your finger tips like word magic
it brings forth odes.

You share adventures of a tragic past
that only a madman could endure
but yet so fitting for the offspring
of the devil’s sperm
you persevered to tell.

In the autumn of your life
there is nothing left
all the material possessions
stripped away ~ left in its wake
a shell of the man you once were
with no keys to turn
It is here the richness of your life lies.

At the bottom, you find your true worth
in the beauty and richness of nature
Steadfast it never left but offers solace
and in quiet times
your only companion.

Here, inspiration flows
as sounds around become more acute
the badass rooster
heralds in the dawn and
birds sing cheerfully
as if just for you.

Colors bloom the exotic
in orchids and zinnias
a display to entice your eyes
and fill your mind offering
a reminder of what is truly yours
that nothing can dismiss
while you write away.

No key needed.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Let Go

Let go!
Live to the beat 
of your inner rhythm.   
Move with the flow 
where the journey of life
brings you;
sometimes to a rocky road
when the journey seems 
filled with despair,
and tears fall like raindrops,
sometimes to a sweet respite
when your path seems straight and clear
and you prosper in all you do.
Welcome whichever comes!
Accept as part of the journey and just be.
Observe the trees as they do,
see how they flourish.
They sway when the wind blows
and steadies when it’s calm and silent,
doesn’t matter what comes,
the way to be, 
is to let go and let God.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Her Identity

She was never a girly girl
did not care about wearing her
mother’s high heel shoes,
or painting her nails.
Wasn’t interested in putting on lipstick,
or smearing makeup on her face.
Had no attraction to the color pink
like most girls do,
nor did she fancy pretty dresses
carefully selected for her.
When she was permitted to make decisions for herself,
and choose what style she wanted to wear,
she wore clothes the same as her brother and
liked to rough and tumble with his friends.
No one in the family felt the need to ask "the question”.
Her identity she chose by herself.
She matured to be phenomenal
despite a world so cruel at times.
The belief in the person she had become
helped to make her strong.
She is intelligent, kind and caring,
lives by great values
she gathered on her journey through life.
A person more than enough
for Those who love her.
This is how God made her
born the way she is.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

My Journal

My
Inner Life
blossoms on
pages and
creativity spreads open
like budding
flowers on a Spring morn
 
In humility I share
secrets of myself 
my feelings and emotions
of doubts of fears
of achievements of dares
being comforted by the
strokes of my pen
 
I bare my soul on the page
revealing stories of reality 
that made up my day  
I share these things to my inner life 
in this sacred space I surrender all
 
It's where answers lie in wait
to questions of daily challenges
‘What should I do about this 
or What should I do about that?’
and as if through a higher power 
between thoughts and words
I sow my outer life alive
calmly guided by
my inner one.

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

The Dance

The dance begun
The moment their eyes locked
There was something there 
For a second she felt it
A sly grin covered his face
She turned away
To avoid his stare
She knew he would be too much to handle
Six foot two with bulging pecs
Stacked in a fitted shirt
He looked appealing
The music played on
She swayed to the beat
Solo on the dance floor
She knew she captivated the room
And his eyes in particular
Five inch heels accentuated toned calves
Slinky skirt wrapped her thighs
As her Hips swayed from side to side
He watched her every move
Filled with anticipation
It won’t be long now 
Before he joins her for the dance

Published in "Movement" 2022

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Extinction

They are disappearing
animals in the wild going extinct 
livestock in the oceans going extinct
plastic pollution fills the land and sea
strangling the life from them
trophy hunters with callous compulsion
slay the vulnerable for social media attention
and man’s hunger for consuming  
every part of these sentient beings expands.

They are disappearing 
animals—as their lives are taken, they fear, and
heartless butchers share tales in jest “They
crap on themselves as they feel the end near”
shivering in line for their turn at slaughter
not unlike man’s own fear, if he faced the same matter,
their fate sealed as long as man lacks enlightenment.               

They are disappearing
and what is our world without
humming birds, without honey bees and butterflies, 
they too are going extinct, their population shrinking
casualties of pesticides and climate change 
disguised poisons fed to them on the low
so too, as forests turn to ash and thawing icebergs flow.                                               

While animals are disappearing
only time stands between man
and his own extinction, 
as he rapes the land of its resources
his greed above all else, 
and his avarice to take more and more grows
he too will disappear as sure as
Karma knows!

Details | Sheila Henry Poem

Early Dawn

Birds sing early dawn
Heralds new day, new promises
Get up, take action